


Laid Claim

by Write_and_Wrong



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Public Claiming, Public Sex, Seriously Adaar is a prick, asshole!Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_and_Wrong/pseuds/Write_and_Wrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor had been bedding the mage for weeks but...something about it wasn't right.  The Bull couldn't quite nail down what it was, but he knew it was something.  It became rather clear rather quickly, shortly thereafter.</p><p>What Bull should do about it does not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for dub con/non con a bit later on, and a coercive Inquisitor.
> 
> For a DAKM prompt:  
> Warning for mean Inquisitor!
> 
> Adaar likes to make Dorian get himself off publicly while in the tavern. He makes a point of getting Dorian off in front of the others casually while talking to them like it's perfectly normal, even though Dorian is clearly uncomfortable with it. No one says anything because well...it's The Herald after all (bonus if they're a tad intimidated by the hulking, mace wielding Adaar). He likes to talk about conquering a Vint and even though Dorian doesn't like it, he's convinced himself there's some feelings for Adaar when really he's just scared of him and his sarcasm when questioned about it is just a front. 
> 
> Bull finally steps in and stops things when Adaar goes too far somehow (Bull has been wanting to for a while but had restrained himself), and takes care of Dorian. 
> 
> Bonus if Bull admits he likes Dorian and Dorian reciprocates, and tells him he was too scared to say anything.
> 
> +they share awesome kisses.  
> +they share equally awesome lap cuddles. (**spoiler** I got the bonus points, lol)

_The first time Bull noticed something seemed wrong he actually thought he was jealous. Sure, Adaar had started bedding Dorian several weeks prior but Bull had harbored no ill will over that, not really: he liked the look of the mage, loved sparring for hours against that sharpened silver tongue as they traipsed about the wilderness, but Bull had made his offers and the 'vint had gone elsewhere. No big deal. He and the boss seemed happy and Bull was fine with that._

_"Frigging grabby-hands all day and night, those two," Sera had laughed, making obscene motions to accompany the observation. So it was...though Bull had noticed the grabbing to be somewhat one-sided. Given that Adaar was only a half-head shorter than he and comparably large, maybe it wasn't surprising that the mace-wielding Inquisitor did most of the initiation._

_...still seemed like something wasn't quite right, though._

 

The tavern was bustling--pretty par for the course, honestly--and the boss and the 'vint had taken up residence in a corner on the opposite side of the room from Bull and his Chargers. His boys were noisy, just back from a job and celebrating accordingly. He joined them, smiling and nodding through the stories, eye watching everything and everyone at once, much like always.

Even across the sea of bodies in the room the Bull couldn't help but notice the dark flush of blood in Dorian's face, obvious even in the shadows of the corner. From the look of it the mage was either in Adaar's lap or damn closed to it, his eyes darting around and appraising the tavern's other occupants almost in a panic. The mage had one hand braced against the Inquisitor's as the latter's much larger fist bobbed conspicuously up and down over the former's lap. Adaar's face was tucked up close alongside Dorian's neck, nipping and biting periodically as he muttered in the 'vint's ear. Bull couldn't read his lips to catch what Dorian said in reply but it made Adaar throw his head back and laugh. His hand didn't stop moving, either.

_Never took Dorian for the exhibitionist type,_ the qunari mused, taking a nice deep draw from his ale. Too much Tevinter in that 'vint; knowing what he did about the Imperium and what they thought of Dorian's so-called 'perversions' it was just one more check in the _shit that doesn't add up_ column. Irritated about the niggling thoughts in the back of his head Bull put his attention back with his boys, leaving the boss and his man to their games.  
________________

"Things going alright for you and the boss, 'vint?" Bull asked Dorian as they stopped for a rest in the shade. Adaar was off talking to some scouts and Cole was...somewhere...so it was just the two of them in the lee of the stone.

"I don't see what business it is of yours," Dorian replied with a sniff, sitting with his back to a smooth boulder. He had his arms wrapped around his knees. 

"You two kinda make it everyone's business when he's playing with you in front of the whole tavern," Bull remarked, curious to see what reaction it would garner. Dorian jumped at the words, his eyes meeting Bull's while shock-- _shame?_ \--dropped his jaw open. A flash later and the mage realized he was staring and slammed his mouth closed so hard his teeth clacked. Crimson washed up from his neck to stain his attractive bronze skin several shades darker.

"Yes. Well." It didn't take a Ben-Hassrath to catch the unease in Dorian's speech and body language, though the man was trying rather hard to buff his veneers back to gleaming. "Adaar is rather proud of showing me off, as he should be. I _am_ exquisite, after all." After a rather deliberate pause he added: "It's none of your concern." The mage was very fastidiously not making eye contact.

"Whatever you say 'vint," the qunari replied, watching the younger man flinch at the epithet...something he had never done, even over months of the two of them slinging racial insults as a way to begin casual conversation with each other. Internally the qunari sighed, but he dropped it.


	2. Chapter 2

The public displays had become something of a regular occurrence. The soldiers and other patrons never said anything, avoiding the Inquisitor and his mage whenever they were at it in one of the booths. Sera was the next one of the Inner Circle to say something, this time to Adaar as he was picking up drinks after another session with his hand down Dorian's breeches. 

"Oy, you mind keeping magey _inside_ those flashy knickers of his?" the elf requested, light in tone but pulling a face. "Or at least save it til you're up in your fancy room, yeah?" Adaar had thrown back his head and laughed, retrieving his two tankards from the barman.

"I'll play with my 'vint wherever I so choose, Sera--that's the whole point of having a pet to begin with. If you don't wish to see it, stop looking." The elf made a displeased little huff but left it alone, retreating to socialize with a couple of the servers. Bull, across the room, attempted to turn off his years of training; to watch the Inquisitor sit back down and see the look on Dorian's face as a lover happily greeting their partner. Even without the subtle tells, though, it wasn't what he saw. The smile on Dorian's face never quite reached his eyes, his posture too rigid as he was pulled into Adaar's lap. The mage had proven to be a passionate man-- _no reserve in love or war_ , he'd said--but nothing about his body language looked happy to be where he was, no matter the attempt at showing the opposite. The Inquisitor's big hands roved all over the 'vint's body--up his arms, across his chest, over the tops of his legs, in between his thighs--and all the while Dorian looked like he was covered in insects, shifting uncomfortably as Adaar grabbed and groped at him. Still, when the Inquisitor made the mage look him in the eye he did so, a smile pulling up the edges of his mustache as they leaned in to kiss.

The Iron Bull imbibed several more tankards of ale than strictly necessary that evening. He didn't bother making an excuse; it was purely to get the imagery of Dorian writhing for all the wrong reasons out of his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Bull had been gone with the Chargers on a mission for the better part of six weeks. He'd bathed, changed clothes and organized his shit in his room...and was now in the mood for several pints of ale.

He was barely two pints in when horns blaring from outside forced a temporary quiet in the tavern; it quickly turned back into a roaring crowd as everyone realized it meant the Inquisitor was about to be back in residence.

"Ugh," Sera made a disgusted noise under her breath, sounding a bit like she was gargling bile at the back of her throat. Bull quirked an eyebrow at her and she just rolled her eyes, jerking her head at the back corner where a figure sat alone. "His High-and-Mightiness is home, means we're gonna have to watch him and magey go all handsy, blech." She stuck out her tongue. "Magey doesn't seem that happy about it himself." She paused, looking for a moment as though she were going to go over to the quiet man slouched in the corner. She settled instead for throwing the Bull another glance, grabbing an extra tankard from Cabot, and heading back to her room.

The mercenary decided to check on their resident Altus, alarm bells still sounding in his brain every time he looked at the man. Bull knew he could be a mother hen at times (Krem had made that abundantly clear on a number of occasions) and while he had the feeling Dorian wouldn't appreciate his intervention since he'd said as much, Bull felt like he at least had to try.

"Doing alright over here, Dorian?" 

"I'm fantastic," the 'vint muttered, eyes downcast as he took a long pull from the tankard he held in front of him. Bull noticed the slight shake in his hands, the overall tremor that rattled his entire form every few seconds.

"You _look_ cold," the qunari countered. Dorian was wearing an outfit he'd never seen the man in before; he was completely confident in this because alongside very tight white leather there was a great deal more of the mage's bronze skin exposed than was normal. Buckles and bands twined about his core and down both arms, a thick band at each wrist. 

"We all must make sacrifices," the mage mumbled, almost as though he were reminding himself. He was pointedly not looking at Bull.

"For what? We already know you're pretty. No need to freeze your sculpted ass off to show us again. Not that I mind, but it's probably not good for your--" Bull's gentle tease got drowned out as the tavern roared: Adaar came in the doorway, arms raised as though triumphant, greeting everyone he saw as he entered the Rest. Bull did not miss the sudden, pronounced slump of Dorian's shoulders as he shrunk into himself; small in his seat, seeming to hide a bit as the volume around them rattled the windows.

"Varric! And The Iron Bull, excellent! A round for everyone Cabot, if you please." Adaar slapped both men on the shoulder before advancing; by the time he swept Dorian up off his stool the mage had a smile on his face (and strain lines around his eyes that Bull wondered if anyone else noticed). "Ahh, my pretty little 'Vint," the Inquisitor growled with a smile of his own, grabbing a large handful of said 'Vint's white-leather-clad arsecheek as Dorian's hands rested on the mace-wielder's shoulders. "Did you miss me while I was gone, pet?" 

"Of course," the mage's reply was theatric--all gleaming teeth and flushed cheeks as Adaar bit a love mark onto his neck--and the entire thing made Bull's stomach twist. The tavern got back to their evening with their fresh drinks as Adaar and Dorian made their way to their favored corner and Bull retreated to his own with the Chargers. The chair made a protesting groan as he sunk down onto it harder than was strictly necessary.

"What in the hell is it with those two, Chief?" Krem asked. He was scowling, but the look on his face told the Qunari the Soprati had put some of the same puzzle pieces together that he had. Good observation skills weren't a requirement for his lieutenant but it was a nice bonus. 

"Dunno." Bull replied honestly. The ale he swigged was bitter on his tongue as he watched Adaar pull the mage into his lap and hand Dorian a wrapped parcel to open. Krem muttered under his breath in Tevene; Bull raised his brow in question. "What was that?"

"I said, Dorian looks like a pricey Antivan whore in all that leather," his lieutenant groused, tipping back his own tankard. "Too flashy, even for him."

Bull couldn't help but agree on all counts.

 

His agreement increased tenfold when he happened to catch a bitten-off yelp over the din of the tavern crowd awhile later, several beers deep into the night. He told himself not to look, a command he held to for all of a breath before he risked a glance over to the Inquisitor's corner. The cry had clearly been Dorian and Bull was not the only person who had noticed; more than one head was turned conspicuously in the 'vint's direction. Adaar was grinning, his hands clamped like vice-grips on the mage's hips. The smaller man's face was washed several shades darker than normal, his bottom lip worried between his teeth as he attempted (badly) to put an impassive look on his face under the eyes of so many onlookers. The Qunari under him laughed and waved once at his audience, dismissing their gazes, leaning in to sink his teeth into the mage's bared shoulder.

Bull watched without watching, his periphery still good despite being an eye short of a full set, while everyone around them went back to their drinks and their dice games. Dorian's face was twisted into a grimace that suited him not at all, handsome features flinching every few seconds and clearly trying not to. His eyes were downcast when they were open, shame burning red beneath the rich tones of his skin from the wide expanse of his exposed chest up to the tips of his ears. Every few moments Dorian's eyes would clench shut, as though he were avoiding a bad dream, only to remember a breath later that he needed to be paranoid about who was witnessing what he and the Inquisitor were up to and open them again. By happenstance the mage's gaze locked with Bull's own at the end of one such sequence, a different set of emotions flashing across his face. The mercenary froze, for once at a loss, as Dorian's face crumpled with something that looked like sorrow, lines drawing the corners of his lips and his eyes down and away.

Then the Bull saw it: the blatant rise and fall as Adaar lifted Dorian by his hips, gliding him up a few inches only to pull him back down flush. Each time he did it the mage's mouth fell open in a breathless _Unh_ before he was pulled back down onto Adaar's cock, seating with a wince and jolt at the finish. He was wriggling in the qunari's hold, not in a way that looked appealing, either. The Inquisitor just held on and lifted Dorian again, canting his hips for a better angle, and drove himself back inside the mage's clenching passage.

Bull covered his growl with a fake cough, lips parted over a snarl on Dorian's behalf. Adaar was _fucking him._ In front of _everyone._

There was also _no way_ the mage was having a good time, not based on his body language and the way he struggled in Adaar's grip. It took no special skill to see, though it _did_ require some restraint for the Iron Bull not to surge out of his seat right then and there. Barely keeping the scowl off his lips, Bull kept his line of sight until the 'vint noticed him again. When he did, Dorian's eyes widened slightly and, inexplicably, he gave a miniscule shake of the head.

The Bull growled quietly to himself, accepting a tankard from Krem without a word.   
________________

Bull took the back way out of the Rest some hours later, having studiously avoided Adaar and his 'Pretty Little 'Vint' the rest of the evening. Mostly, anyway. It had been rather impossible to miss when Adaar had finished, his grunt guttural and clearly not stifled much, if at all. The subsequent small struggle when Dorian had attempted to leave only to be held fast in the Inquisitor's lap had been equally maddening, especially given the 'vint's explicit ' _do not interfere_ ' to the Bull earlier in the night.

Maybe Dorian really _was_ into the public stuff, given the frequency in which he was participating in it. A kink he wasn't quite ready to accept because of his fucked-up Tevinter upbringing, but that Adaar was helping him get over, maybe? The signals were all wrong...or the Ben-Hassrath was getting rusty. A frown he couldn't shake carved onto his face, Bull had kept his eye to himself after that, not caring to see what was in the parcel Adaar had brought with him or what they were going to get up to next. By the time he left they were gone.

 

The familiar sound of someone retching distracted Bull from his walk as well as his grousing, troubled thoughts; to his mild surprise he rounded the corner of the tavern to find a very shapely, white leather clad ass staring back at him.

"...Dorian?" The mage startled and looked up, mouth surprisingly bereft of any unfortunate liquids; tears coursed down his cheeks as he heaved. The Bull frowned, noticing the distinct lack of the stench of alcohol on the air. "You sick?" The mage brought the back of one hand to his mouth, hiccuping a little as his shoulders shook. He shook his head and did not reply. It was then that Bull noticed the ring of brown leather around Dorian's neck, half-hidden behind his high collar. _Adaar being possessive?_ he wondered; he didn't ask. Seemed kind of pointless, all things considered. He could smell the Inquisitor on the mage, a second scent that was as persistent as the smell of horse in the stables.

"A little under the weather is all." Dorian's speech was more breath than actual voice, barely audible even in the still night air. He was quivering so badly it made Bull's chest ache. "Don't mind me."

"You want a hand back to your room?"

"No! No." He turned away with a huff that was completely undermined by the wobble in his equilibrium. Bull shrugged his mountainous shoulders at the vehemence in the denial, all flash and no heat just as Varric had named him. Dorian was a grown man. "I...thank you for the thought." Dorian finished solemnly. 

"Just don't trip and bust that shapely mug of yours," the qunari advised, tromping down all the negative grumbling in his head as he continued on his ways. That got a weak little chuckle from behind him and a " _Quite_ " as he wandered back to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaar really is that big of a prick.

"So I've been meaning to ask," Adaar said, coming to join the Bull as he watched his boys in the training yard one afternoon. The Inquisitor had his head cocked to the side in a manner that probably showed off his features very nicely to someone shorter than he. Bull was several inches taller, however. "You want to go a few rounds? I've noticed your looks in the tavern." The Ben-Hassrath did not need him to elaborate that sparring was _not_ what he meant.

"Nah, I'm good," Bull replied, voice carefully devoid of inflection. "Don't get me wrong Boss, you're hot and all, but been there done that. Thanks though." Adaar tipped his head back and laughed, nodding.

"I wouldn't want to deprive the kitchen staff, after all." There was a pregnant pause. "So, is it the mage then?" The big muscles in Bull's neck tightened subconsciously; the Inquisitor noticed the movement and grinned, "Oh so that IS it. You want to play with my little kept 'vint? I can't say I blame you...he really is something. Makes the _best_ noises," Adaar added and Bull couldn't remember feeling his skin crawl in quite the fashion that it did just then. "You can have a go, if you want."

"Dorian probably wouldn't go for that." Bull's arms crossed themselves over his chest. Adaar's smile was wolfish, baring all of his teeth. 

"He could be convinced, I'm sure. I mean, we already know he likes Qunari, and he's Tevinter: greedy and insatiable, just like the rest. He also likes being paraded about and desired. Hell, everyone knows that. He talks about it every five seconds."

_Does he actually want you doing **this** , though?_ Bull wondered silently,- _or is it you that likes it?_ Dorian clearly appreciated his own looks and did much to maintain them, that much was certainly true. Bull doubted that extended to liking other people's hands all over him, or being offered out to random partners. "I'll pass," he said out loud, "but I appreciate the thought." Adaar shrugged and turned to go.

"Suit yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a rather simplistic tale. I was trying to avoid another novella :/


	5. Chapter 5

It was about a month later that Bull hit his breaking point. The day started well, all things considered: good breakfast, a productive practice with his boys. Kitchen maid with the sassy walk and long red hair was making eyes at him like crazy and would probably have been in his lap that night, had he not gotten otherwise occupied.  
___________

That same morning Adaar had Dorian dress in the white leather again; the mage shifted at his side, restless and rather untalkative with their guests. They were entertaining some high-and-mighty Antivan merchants, one of whom was a formal ambassador of a conglomerate of some sort. Very important, very boring stuff that the Inquisitor left to Josephine. He'd had dealings in Antiva, however, and had a very good guess that his pretty 'Vint might prove useful.

The hunch proved itself out when the much older Antivan ambassador was all but drooling over Dorian throughout the entirety of the pleasantries and opening discussions. By the time they hit cocktail hour that evening (or whatever Josephine called it) Adaar decided to press the lead, meeting the man's eye as he all but tugged the mage into his lap right in front of him. They were in a corner and not truly all that visible but he still felt the 'Vint squirm at the public setting.

"You appear to have fine tastes, my good sir."

"He is exquisite, no?" the Antivan ambassador raised an eyebrow and leaned in very close-- _too_ close--and breathed deeply. "Tevinter?" Adaar nodded, grabbing one of Dorian's wrists rather ungently when he opened his mouth to speak. The mage flinched and pursed his lips but it did not seem to satiate the Inquisitor, who was frowning. The warrior snatched Dorian's other wrist as soon as he could do so inconspicuously, pulling it behind his back while the older man's hands wandered along the muscles of the mage's chest and shoulders. "Yes, he is a fine consort indeed, Inquisitor." The Antivan straightened, catching Adaar's eye over Dorian's shoulder; the qunari smiled coyly and nodded. The mage wriggled slightly in between the two of them but his arms remained staunchly in the Herald's grip.

"You would perhaps like to...sample a foreign delicacy, as you might say?" Adaar questioned; the Ambassador laughed and nodded his head, humming thoughtfully. It set the mage's teeth on edge.

"In Antiva, we share such fine feasts with our host. Shall we retreat to my room?" Dorian started to say something only to find his mouth invaded by a kiss from Adaar, who then proceeded to all but carry him through the halls as they slipped out a side door and followed the older man.

"You will _not_ threaten this alliance," Adaar ordered in a harsh whisper, directly into the mage's ear. He was still holding his wrists in a bruising grip behind his back. "Follow my lead and _keep your mouth shut_."

 

Once the Ambassador's door was closed and bolted tight, Dorian standing rigid with Adaar pressed tightly to his back. The mace-wielder's powerful hands were going to visible on Dorian's forearms for days in the form of deep purple bruises.

"I don't suppose you have scarves or something similar, Ambassador Larendaeu?"

"Please, if we are to do this, you must call me Jorge." Adaar smiled a cobra's smile, running a thumb down Dorian's jaw. If he felt the shudder in the smaller man he ignored it.

"Jorge, then. How do you wish to proceed?"   
____________

"I'm confused, the Iron Bull." It was a testament to Bull's training that he didn't punch Cole through a wall when he materialized beside him in his room. He did let out a rather forceful breath, though, along with a little lament for the spike in his blood pressure that would take an hour to wind down from.

"'Bout what, kid?" 

"Why someone does things when they don't want to."

"Happens a lot, kid, all part of being an adult. Meetings suck but we have to go to them, for example. Eating vegetables, bathing, all that shit. Why?" The qunari caught the look on Cole's face and realized there was more to it. Instantly he got a sour taste in the back of his mouth, that awful inkling that something important was going to go downhill fast.

"Not like that, The Iron Bull. It's...hard to explain how it sounds." Cole was fiddling with his daggers, hands dancing as he tried to find the words. Tension crept up Bull's spine like a predator at its dying prey's back, slow and steady and relentless. When Cole spoke again it was in that odd cadence of his, the one where Bull could tell he was flitting about in people's heads as he went. "Adaar set it up and then set off, leaving him to the man with the flirty smile. It makes him sick but he stays," Cole didn't fully understand how to articulate whatever he was passing on, head cocked to the side as he listened. "He didn't say no but he didn't say yes, either," Cole finished quietly. "Now he can't say anything."

"Then he didn't say 'yes,' kid," Bull didn't need to hear anything more than that. He also had a distinct feeling he did not need Cole to give him a name, either. "Take me to him."

It took them maybe three minutes to get across the battlements to the guest wing, Cole gesturing very simply to a heavy, unremarkable door. Bull gave the door a pointed look and the spirit nodded, a lockpick in his hand from Maker knew where. It only took him a minute or two to get the mechanism to click open and the qunari had to wonder if he used the Fade to cheat. Bull dropped his hand on Cole's shoulder and the spirit nodded, vanishing silently. Bull took a deep breath and eased the door lever down noiselessly, allowing it to swing open.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some triggery stuff in this chap as far as consent goes but it's mild, if there is such a thing? The chap also stops in a weird spot but you're gonna get smothered with some fluff in the next part.
> 
> Thanks to those of you who are brave enough to comment, I really appreciate it :D

It was definitely one of the guest suites and it was most definitely in use. Dorian's lithe form was splayed out on the bed, naked from the waist down. His wrists sported thick leather cuffs and were tied above him to the ornate headboard, his legs spread wide and another man crouched between them. The 'Vint's back arched, his chest heaving beneath the ornate white top as he tugged at the cuffs; little moaning noises escaped from around the gag that was tied into his mouth. His eyes were clenched tightly shut as he shook his head from side to side, the movement mirrored throughout his body as he writhed in the throes of the...activity going on. 

The figure kneeling between Dorian's legs did not seem to mind the movement, his head bobbing as he held the mage's legs open with a hand on each golden brown thigh. The man appeared to be rather enthusiastically sucking Dorian off, taking his cock deep into his throat as he rose up and down, humming contentedly while the bound man squirmed.

Bull cleared his throat once, loudly, and the result would have been comical were he not so sure this was Adaar's doing. Dorian instantly stilled, his grey eyes snapping open. The man between his legs pulled his lips off of the mage's cock with an obscene popping sound as he turned to look at the door. The skin tone and annoying facial hair were distinct and Bull recognized the man in passing as one of Josephine's Antivan guests, here to discuss trade route alliances or some shit like that. The alarm bells sounding in his head got louder and the rage just a few shades more dark, welling from a deep red into black. Years of practice made him able to push it back enough to think; he _had_ to be sure he wasn't just interrupting some really enthusiastic sex.

Bull couldn't afford to be wrong, not about this, not when he was already toeing the line of sticking his horns where they didn't belong. Also Josephine would likely get pissed if he ruined her trade talks by murdering one of the guests.

"My, but you are a large one," the Antivan man grinned up at him, completely unabashed and unaware of his peril. A twisted little part of Bull had to give it to Antiva for being in the right of it: sex was nothing to be ashamed of, and Bull's gut feeling said this guy thought that's all that was happening. "No shortage of strapping Qunari in the Inquisition it seems. I am afraid you have caught me at a rather inopportune moment, however." Dorian made a strained noise and the man turned back to him, murmuring soft praises as he slid one hand to fondle the mage's balls while the other travelled lower. Bull noticed the toy in Dorian's ass then, and knew that under any other circumstance the moan the 'Vint let out would go straight to his dick. The stomach-churning revulsion and perpetual doubt he had instead were a poor substitute. Not for the last time, Bull allowed himself a small flash of desire to see the handsome man wriggling for the _right_ reasons for once. When Bull didn't leave the Antivan half-turned back to him and said, "Meaning no disrespect, my fine sir, but I need to get back to enjoying the company of this lovely consort--he is ever so _needy_ , you see. So if you don't mind..." Dorian writhed as the toy twisted inside him, closing his legs and tugging them away; the Antivan laughed and rolled the mage onto his side, holding both Dorian's legs round the knee with his left arm. The hold kept his right hand free to piston the phallus in and out of Dorian's hole. "Don't worry my sweet, I will take care of you," he muttered, pressing a kiss to Dorian's hip as he arched his back. Even as he did so another breathy keen slipped past being fully muffled and the Antivan quivered in sympathetic arousal. There was a satisfied little noise in the back of his throat as he worked the toned, sweating body beneath him with gusto.

"...you give him a watchword?" Bull asked through clenched teeth. His fingers were clamped so tightly on the door lever he was pretty sure it was going to snap in half. He flexed them once just to feel the metal creak. The Antivan gave a subtle flick to his wrist and Dorian loosed a broken moan as his whole body shuddered, the ambassador effectively multitasking as he pondered the question.

"I beg your pardon?"

"A watchword or a signal. Some way he can ask you to stop if he's not enjoying himself." 

"My good sir, I know you've but one eye but surely you can see my handiwork?" The man released his hold on the toy to spread Dorian's quivering thighs again, revealing his cock standing at full hardness and leaking precome down its length. "He is _clearly_ enjoying himself. As am I, quite frankly."

Bull sucked in a breath through his nose to keep from growling, remembering Dorian's shake of the head when the two had made eye contact the night Adaar had fucked him in the tavern. The 'Vint hadn't wanted him to get involved then and might not now, either, but he _had_ to be sure. Too much of it felt wrong.

"Physically, sure. Doesn't mean he wants you doing it." _That_ finally got Jorge to fall still, his face falling from lascivious lust into confusion.

"The Inquisitor is the one who arranged this, he assured me that--"

"I'm sure he did. Not sure Dorian there signed on the dotted line, though." Bull caught the 'Vint's gaze with his own and held it, saying the next directly to him. "Nod your head yes or no, Dorian. Do you want this to continue? You say yes and I'll leave you two alone with my apologies." Bull didn't say the rest out loud-- _You say 'no' and I'll get you out_ \--but he knew Dorian was perceptive enough to catch his meaning. Long-lashed eyes fluttered closed and for a long moment, the qunari was sure he was going to nod, every line in his face a study in struggle. After a minute a bit of moisture flashed at the edges of those lashes, however, and very slowly the mage shook his head 'no.'

Jorge slid back off the bed and stood up in alarm; Dorian took the opportunity to close his legs and curl up as much as he was able. The Antivan turned to the Iron Bull, dark complexion paled somewhat and eyes large in his face.

"You must understand, I wasn't...I did not intend to--" Bull shook his head, motioning to the door with an unsubtle jerk of his horns.

"Not saying you did. Take your bag. Request a different room. Leave it be for now." The man nodded hurriedly. "You forget something, you don't come back for it 'til tomorrow." Another frantic nod and the Antivan had grabbed his belongings and all but ran from the room, the qunari catching the scent of molten panic on the man as he charged past. Bull bolted the door closed behind him. He could always go after the man later if he needed to. First he needed to see to the mage.

Dorian was drawn up against the headboard, resting his weight on one hip to keep pressure off the toy. He was clutching at the rope holding his wrists together and studiously avoiding eye contact, shivering a little in the cool air of the room. Bull sighed unhappily, raising his hands palm out as a gesture in what he hoped the 'Vint understood to be placating.

"May I...do you mind if I touch you, Dorian? I'm going to pull the blanket up to your waist." He nodded, still making no eye contact. Bull tugged the coverlet up the bed and draped over Dorian's legs and lower half, affording him a modicum of privacy. "You want the gag off?" Another nod, and Dorian gasped in several deep breaths as soon as his mouth was free. The two of them waited in silence for a couple of ponderously long moments until the mage cleared his throat.

"Maker, what you must think of me after that display..."

"You want the truth?" Bull questioned, sitting down beside him on the bed. Dorian shuddered but nodded, still sighing in relief as the larger man freed his wrists from the headboard, lowering Dorian's arms for him and removing the leather cuffs. "You look as good in rope as you implied but I'm wondering how the hell you ended up in here when you clearly didn't want to be." Bull _saw_ the curtains draw up behind the 'Vint's pretty eyes and added firmly: "The truth, Dorian."

"I am Tevinter mage in the _South_ , Bull. Most of the people here despise the notion of me on principle alone, no matter what I do or don't. I have little choice but to remain in our Inquisitor's good graces," Dorian replied finally, in what he probably thought was an objective tone. It would have worked had he managed more than a half-second of eye contact as he said it. "He decided today that making me... _available_ for the Ambassador's use was required to serve the Inquisition as I'd promised to do." The mage's voice was very small by the end of the sentence, not at all his normal blustery, eloquent speech. He flushed a deep crimson and fished a hand below the blanket, wiggling as he relieved himself of the toy. There was no way to make it less awkward for him so Bull settled on averting his gaze, waiting 'til he heard the thing thunk to the floor before looking back.

"Josephine know about this?"

"I truly doubt it, but I can't say for sure. Adaar..." he cleared his throat and finally looked up and met Bull's gaze, something very raw in the look, "...he said you gave him the idea." The qunari's stomach may as well have been a fist, given the way it clenched itself just then. He shook his head and tried not to roar over the anger bubbling up from his gut.

"He offered to convince you to go a few rounds with me a couple weeks back, caught me looking at you in the tavern. I should have said something then." Bull controlled the force of his grip as his hands tightened reflexively; one of them was on Dorian's knee and the last thing he wanted was to bruise the smaller man further than he already had been. He could already see oblong purple finger marks twined around Dorian's forearms. "I would never let him compel you to do anything you didn't want to, with me or with anyone else, if I knew." Another guttural sound rolled up from Bull's belly as another piece to the puzzle fell soundly into place. "Is that why you were with him this whole time? Because you felt you had no choice?" A small half-shrug was his answer; Bull made a rumbling, disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Should have known, someone like you with a Tal-Vashoth..."

"It's not that I find qunari men objectionable, per se," the mage interjected. His cheeks were decidedly rosy, Bull noted, but he didn't press him. "At first I thought...at first I thought he actually--" Dorian's breath caught as he half-choked on the words, "...that he actually loved me. Perhaps he did. I was projecting, perhaps, but I did not want to be a quick tryst, a throwaway evening of frivolity that we'd never speak of again. I have had more than my share of that." Something in his phrasing twanged like a bowstring pulled taut, reverberating through Bull's shot-to-shit nerves. "It quickly became more akin to bragging rights, however...like I was a pet, a peculiarity to be shown off and controlled." Dorian let out a little shudder of horror, thinking of all the things he and Adaar had done in full view of others. "I have had quite enough of _that_ as well. Not my cup of tea, frankly, but by then it was too late." 

_I'm sorry_ kept trying to claw its way free of Bull's lips, along with _I knew. I didn't know but I **knew** something was up and I didn't do anything._ Instead he found himself moving on to the next thing he didn't understand, tabeling the guilt for later.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have some fluff, you wonderful people   
> I actually don't know if it's any _good,_ per se, but it's definitely the best I've managed? that's kinda sad when I put it in print.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up immediately from where the last let off

"What about the Antivan? Why didn't you fry him?" Bull questioned. Dorian blanched, his hands going to his throat. The mage actually flinched at the force of Bull's scowl as the qunari realized there were tiny symbols etched into the surface of the brown leather. _Sealing runes_. It was a goddamn _Saarebas collar_ and he _hadn't fucking noticed._

"Fucking asshole..." Suddenly Bull remembered where he'd seen that particular strip of leather before. "Dorian," the Bull softened his tone, placing a hand gently beneath the 'Vint's chin to lift it. "That night I found you heaving behind the tavern..." Dorian nodded, foreseeing where the question was going with a sardonic little smile playing at his lips.

"The night our illustrious Inquisitor first presented me with this particular 'gift,' yes. I have not...the last time I was collared before that occasion was not a pleasant experience. I cannot say this time was any better. I should have suspected then that something was amiss but there was not much I could do about it. That night he helpfully told me what it was after he'd already fastened the thing around my neck. Rather a moot announcement by then, I assure you." Another shudder that shook the mage all the way to his toes. "It was miserable. This, though..." He glanced around the room, taking in his own discarded clothing across the unfamiliar room. "I didn't want to do it but the ambassador was gentle, at least. That's something. Adaar told him I was shy and needed to be muffled and the man believed him." Bull's chest rumbled in a growl again, though he did try to keep it to himself. He failed somewhat, judging by the fact that one of Dorian's hands came to rest on his knee then. The 'Vint was trying to comfort _him_. Koslun's horns, _that_ took the cake and Bull smacked himself mentally, letting one hand venture to the ring of leather.

"Can I take it off?"

"...afraid not. You-know-whom has the key." Dorian tried to say it lightly and failed utterly, dire worry carving lines around his eyes and mouth. "I am not sure how he's going to react to...all of this."

"Dagna could help remove the collar if he decides to be a prick about it," Bull assured him. 

"It is not just the collar I am worried about." 

The Bull understood, placing his palm on Dorian's back. He'd be damned if Adaar was going to keep treating Dorian like a fucking object to be shown off and loaned to whomever he chose. They would have to have a plan, though. He and the Chargers were still under contract (though Bull was sure that despite everything, the boys would follow him if he opted to part ways with the Inquisition, especially if they heard this part. Dorian's privacy was important but they had all seen him with Adaar in the tavern.) Plus, Bull knew as well as Dorian that the mage didn't really have anywhere to go.

Dorian sighed, perhaps pondering similar trains of thought; the motion an intensive thing that took all of him to accomplish. He seemed to wilt as he exhaled, deflating completely but for the tension in his shoulders. He kept stealing furtive little glances at Bull from under his eyelashes, eyes resolutely downcast, one hand running through his ruined hairdo in a nervous tic the qunari hadn't seen from him before. Given his meticulous grooming he supposed that wasn't all that strange, though to see Dorian doing it now made him wonder what other thoughts were being weighed in between the 'Vint's ears.

Then Dorian surprised him, gathering the blanket more firmly about his waist. He didn't speak, just used his free hand to drag over a pillow before pushing against Bull's shoulder to get him to sit back against the headboard. Bemused, Bull acquiesced and shuffled his weight so he could get comfortable. Dorian darted the pillow behind his back at the last moment and Bull grinned at him, unable to help himself.

"Thanks. What are you..." Bull trailed off as Dorian climbed rather unceremoniously into his lap, one hand keeping his blanket in place while the other settled onto the cross-strap for Bull's harness. Dorian was tall for a human and surprisingly heavy, lean muscle on a well-built frame; he spread his weight across the Bull's thighs, lying shoulder to chest as he tucked his head up under the Bull's chin. Bull sat still, unsure what Dorian wanted him to do. He got his answer when one of Dorian's hands pawed around behind him until he found Bull's, lacing their fingers together and tugging 'til Bull's right arm was tucked around his back. 

"You're warm," Dorian muttered, by way of explanation. He released Bull's hand to retake his hold on the harness, breath warm against Bull's sternum. Bull rested his palm on Dorian's hip, tracing little patterns through the coverlet with his fingertips.

_Wouldn't have marked you as a cuddler,_ Bull mused to himself, remembering Krem's stories about what was allowed in Tevinter before realizing that was likely the point. He let it go, content for the moment to allow Dorian's weight on his chest to distract him from what they were going to do about the Inquisitor. Dorian needed to be held, apparently. Bull could manage that. 

They stayed that way, bodies pressed together in companionable silence for several minutes during which the qunari decided he didn't hate the way the two of them fit. Dangerous thought, that. Far more so considering they'd never touched before today and were going to have to find some way to get Dorian out from under the Inquisitor's thumb. 

"I apologize," Dorian murmured finally. He curled up a little more tightly; Bull huffed a little as Dorian's mustache tickled his sternum. "I've dragged you into a mess of my own making. It's hardly fair."

"Didn't drag me into anything, Dorian. You're way too small to manage." That startled a small chuckle out of him and Bull's arm tightened subconsciously, holding Dorian as though that alone would fix things.

"...what a mess." Dorian sighed against Bull's chest before levering himself up so he could look Bull in the eye. The Bull didn't think he'd ever seen anyone war with himself in silence and yet still be so loud. He could damn near hear Dorian debating himself in his head. One side finally won because he asked: "May I kiss you?"

"Only if you want to," Bull said seriously, a little surprised; he caught Dorian's chin before he could move. "I mean it Dorian. Don't do it just because I barged in here. I want you to kiss me because _you want to_ or not at all." Even if it was only because the 'Vint needed a distraction to get over the shit Adaar had just done to him, Bull could handle it. Getting to taste Dorian once was better than not at all, so long as it was what the man wanted and needed.

Dorian apparently agreed, shifting so that he straddled Bull's waist. He wiggled, tucking his feet behind the larger man as he adjusted his blanket, leaving the two of them chest to chest. Dorian hesitated a moment, catching his lip in his teeth before hardening his resolve and leaning in. The first peck was hardly a kiss at all, the barest brush against the scarred skin of Bull's cheek. Bull smiled into it, tugging the mage front and center before kissing him once, chastely, mouth to mouth. The qunari felt his heartbeat stutter a little as Dorian's eyes lit up and he gained some confidence, a smile tugging at one side of his lips before they were on the warrior's again, sweet and soft.

Bull sighed as Dorian all but melted against him, one slim hand lifting to trace a nonsense pattern around one of Bull's ears. Their kisses were gentle, a little hesitant. Dorian's mouth pressed to Bull's, a flick of the tongue a nonverbal request; Bull allowed him in, tongues twining in a dance that was exploratory and thorough, entirely unhurried. They tasted each other, seeming to take turns with little involuntary sighs that escaped one of them to be drawn in by the other's breath. Dorian's pretty grey eyes fluttered closed.

The Bull quelled the strange, pleasant twang that made itself known behind his rib cage, a small, delicate thing he had not expected to find there. Dorian, as lascivious as he could be at times, seemed content to stay perched in Bull's lap, one hand hooked on the leather strap of his brace and the other teasing innocently around Bull's ear as the two of them kissed. It was sweet, for lack of a better term. Bull took a chance and settled one hand firmly on the nape of Dorian's neck, relishing in the small exhale of contentment he released against his lips. Dorian hummed as blunted nails stroked his close-cropped hair.

"You okay?" Bull finally asked, pulling back reluctantly; Dorian huffed a laugh, face still inches away. He kissed Bull firmly a final time before he deigned to answer, opening his eyes. 

"Better than okay," he murmured quietly and instantly flinched, the contented wistfulness vanishing from his face as though he were afraid of the honesty. Indeed, as soon as the words had left him, Dorian pulled back to arm's length and hesitantly looked up at Bull, cheeks pink and lips swollen. Bull frowned at having to watch Dorian's face fall from something close to happiness to something that was almost guilty. "You...Bull, you are not doing this just to make me feel better, are you?" That lush lower lip worried itself between Dorian's pearly white teeth again as he lowered his gaze, clearly not wanting to hear the answer even though he'd asked the question.

"Dorian," Bull's voice was solid (and nowhere near as weirdly fluttering as his chest felt just then), "I don't do things I don't want to, not where stuff like this is concerned." He traced one fine-boned cheek, drawing Dorian's face back to his own and kissing him gently. "Anything you want to share with me, I'll gladly take." Dorian ducked his head, muttering something under his breath that Bull didn't catch. "Don't overthink it, Dorian. I'm here to be whatever you need. You don't know what that is right now? That's fine too."

"I'm going to have to talk to Adaar," Dorian mumbled miserably against his chest, and answer and an avoidance all at once. The flare of defensive, red heat seared through Bull again.

"Not without me you're not," his voice was a gravelly snarl at best. He heard Dorian grumble about 'his mess' and dragged the man upright. "Hey. I'm not letting you do this alone, Dorian. He knows he has you where he wants or he wouldn't have pulled this shit." Adaar **knew** no one was going to defy the Herald of Andraste for the sake of the evil Tevinter mage. Bull's maimed hand brushed against the collar around Dorian's neck. "He stole your best means of defending yourself. I know you can handle yourself just fine," he added quietly, "-but I'm not gonna leave you alone with him when he's stacked the field against you." _Not anymore._

"I...thank you, Bull. I, ehm..." He cleared his throat, "if we are going to do this I'm going to need pants." The Bull tipped his head back and laughed, scooping Dorian up into his arms as he stood. Dorian squawked until Bull deposited him into an armchair, blanket and all, before recovering his boots and leggings for him.


	8. Chapter 8

Dorian took the shortest path to the Inquisitor's rooms, hellbent on putting the issue to rest. Bull half wondered if he ought to be armed and decided against it. It was already going to be awkward, no sense making it worse. 

Dorian knocked once, tersely; there came an affirmative grunt in response and he hesitated before opening the door, shoulders tense as he gathered his arsenal. Bull imagined Dorian’s walls shoring up around him in the silence, arrogance and a number of other glamours that Dorian used like armor. He placed a hand on Dorian's shoulder.

"This is your show but I'm here if you need me, alright? You want me to jump in, you look at me and blink three times." Dorian nodded gratefully and, pulling in a deep breath, opened the door and ascended the stair to Adaar's rooms.

"Ah, my pretty little 'Vint returns," Bull heard from the hall, wiping all expression from his face and waiting a few moments before following. "Had fun with the Ambassador I trust?"

"We had to cut our encounter short I'm afraid." Dorian's voice was clipped and formal, cold as a cut marble floor. Bull saw Adaar's face pull into a frown before the Inquisitor realized he was there. "I was a less-than-willing participant, you see. That caused some issues."

"You..." Adaar's eyebrows rose at seeing Bull enter. The former spy stopped just up the stairs to lean against wall. "What do you mean, 'issues?'" The Herald pressed on, seemingly undeterred. "If you've ruined our chances of sealing the partnership with the conglomerate--"

"The Ambassador will continue to play nice without spreading any tales, I would imagine." Dorian folded his arms across his chest as Adaar closed the distance, canting one hip out as he raised his chin, the picture of arrogance. He'd managed to turn his hastily fixed hair and the revealing leather outfit into a suit of armor of his own crafting. "He could not implicate you without implicating himself and as a player of the Game, I doubt he would do so. Besides," Bull held his breath; _here it comes_ , "-being denied a tumble is a small price to pay for not being complicit in a rape." At the last word the Inquisitor's eyes narrowed, his lips curling to bear his teeth.

" _What?_ " He said it harshly, equal parts question and invective. When he continued speaking it was in a low, dangerous tone. "Just what do you think you're implying, 'Vint?" 

"Let's not play coy, Inquisitor." Dorian's shoulders began to creep down, tension showing through, but he quickly reformed his visage and continued on. "I wish to see through my commitment to the Inquisition, but you and I," a deep breath, "you and I will not be continuing our arrangement." Adaar considered him, lips still curled maliciously.

"Is that so?"

"It is." Dorian extended his right hand. "You will relinquish the key to this damnable collar and we will part ways, at least as far as personal activities go." His face twisted into something grim then, arrogance fading to something darker. "This was a poor decision on both our parts. We will call it a mutual decision and leave it."

"Or what?" Adaar demanded. Bull didn't have a good vantage on Dorian's facial expression but his voice was acidic when he replied to the Inquisitor's challenge.

"I will let everyone know just how our interactions behind closed doors went and allow the public opinion sort itself out."

"No one is going to take your word over mine," Adaar sneered. Dorian scoffed right back.

"Perhaps not, but it hardly matters. The people that are disinclined to like you will take "The Herald is a rapist" and run with it. The whispers of our antics in the tavern are nearly a fire all on their own. So it's that, or mutual silence, Inquisitor. It's your choice." Bull kept it off his face but internally he was beaming at Dorian’s poise despite his desire to put Adaar's face through a wall. He knew Dorian was competent, knew he could handle himself against Adaar so long as he knew he had a single person in his corner. Hell, he'd fled the only home he'd ever had with far less.

The Inquisitor appeared to remember exactly the same and turned his attention to Bull.

"I thought you were supposed to be _my_ bodyguard, Iron Bull. This man is all but threatening my reputation and that of the Inquisition. You would stand there and allow it?" 

"I am still your bodyguard, Boss," the Bull replied with a shrug. "Just doesn't seem like you're the one who needs defending in this case." 

Dorian crossed the room with his chin up, every ounce the noble he was. He reached Adaar’s desk and folded his arms across his chest, silently demanding the key to the binding collar. Adaar followed him and retrieved it from his desk; the Inquisitor handed it over but before Dorian could walk away, Adaar had snatched his wrist and dragged him forward a step. The Herald leaned down, looming over Dorian to speak directly into his ear.

"Don't you try to spin this like you're the wronged party here, 'Vint. You're a submissive. I worked your body the way you wanted and _you know it,_ " the Inquisitor hissed. "Just like you know you'll never get anyone else as good as me."

"There is nothing wrong with being as I am," Dorian shot back, voice laced with ice. His eyes blazed. "It doesn't mean you own me."

"Are you quite certain about that?" Adaar tightened his grip to the point that Dorian's wrist ached in complaint; hours-old bruises crushed as new ones formed. Dorian clenched his teeth and didn't flinch. "I could force the issue, mage. No one is going to take your side."

"You already have done, more than once." Dorian yanked on his arm; the Herald didn't let go. "I don't need backup to do what I must. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."

"Yeah, right," Adaar snickered, eyes flickering to Bull and back. The Bull was watching them both but had not budged. "You're a weakling under all that sheen, 'Vint. Desperate and needy. They're all going to call you a whore if you leave me and you'll snap without me to protect you." To both qunaris' shock Dorian laughed in Adaar's face.

"How quaint a notion," Dorian's voice picked up a vicious edge. "You forced me to _fuck you_ in front of half of them and you believe the names matter? They already call me names," Dorian sneered and the shame of it, his own gaping wound was reforged into a weapon against Adaar. "Let them talk. The slander is preferable to the truth of what you've done and it's certainly better than your 'protection,'" he snapped. Then, with pure venom in his voice: "Let _go._ " When he yanked his arm again Adaar released it. Dorian drew himself up, handsome features twisted with as much cordial disdain as he could manage. "As you were, _Herald_." 

It was as crisp a dismissal as Bull had ever heard. Dorian spun on his heel, for all the world looking taller than the Inquisitor behind him, and strode out of the room. Bull eased off the wall and inclined his head to Adaar before following the striding mage into the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Adaar needs a punch in the squishies


	9. and the fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and alllll the fluff I could manage. I hope this ending's alright kids!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long (my job, ugh)!
> 
> ALL OF MY THANKS to anyone who read and commented, you peeps are THE ABSOLUTE BEST!!

Bull trailed Dorian all the way back to his room before the man beckoned him inside. As soon as the door was closed Dorian exhaled hard, dropping the collar key into Bull's hand with fingers that shook. Bull saw him debating again and made the decision for him, stepping forward and gathering Dorian against his chest. The smaller man hugged him back, going to the balls of his feet to tuck his head under Bull's chin.

"You did so well," Bull murmured against Dorian's dark hair.

"You helped," came the reply against his skin. 

"Nah, that was all you, Dorian," he corrected, feeling Dorian's arms squeeze him tighter. "He was in the wrong. You know that, right?" Bull pushed at the knots stress had sewn into the muscles between Dorian's shoulders; he sighed, pressing into the touch. "It took strength to do what you did." _I wish you'd told me. I wish I'd done something sooner._ The anger echoed in the back of Bull's mind, but this wasn't about him. "I might've been standing there but you put him in his place on your own." Bull rubbed his arms and stroked his hair, in disarray from the near-jogging pace they'd taken to get back to his room.

"Yes. Well. In any case I doubt this is the end of it." There was still a fine tremor running through the mage's whole body, adrenaline and fear and nerves all winding him so tight he was damn near humming with tension. Dorian gasped as Bull's hands moved to the back of his neck, fumbling the key for only a moment before the collar's lock flashed and released. Dorian immediately stepped away, eyes closed and head tipped back in a wistful sigh at regaining so significant a part of himself. He rolled his shoulders and stretched as though shrugging back into a familiar coat. It reminded Bull of shaking out his body after a fight, shifting muscle and bone back to their proper places.

Bull couldn't help but shiver a little at the sight that was Dorian re-acclimating to his power. He wasn't fond of magic but it was hard not to appreciate the spectacle of tiny lightning bolts coursing up Dorian's limbs from tip to toe, twining and twisting, violet electricity vibrant against white leather and golden brown skin. The smell of scorched air was heavy in the small room. Finally, Dorian pulled in a long breath through his nose and let it out through parted lips, the flicker of magic fading with the last of the air. When his eyes opened Bull swore they were glittering.

"Feel better?"The warrior asked. Dorian's smile was both beautiful and predatory, somehow soft and sharp all at once.

"Considerably." He crooked a finger at Bull, who couldn't help but grin back. The two advanced in the same moment, mouths meeting with a small jolt of static electricity. Dorian backed Bull up til he was sitting on the side of the bed; he wasted no time in crawling up onto the warrior's lap, wrapping his arms and legs around him as they kissed. There was more restless energy in both of them this time but the sweetness in their pauses, the soft press of one tongue against another, felt the same. Dorian appeared to be trying to express all his emotions through kissing and touch, his hands tracing Bull's neck, back and shoulders.

Bull gave as good as he got, pride and protectiveness warring with a new foe: fierce, burning fondness in his heart. There would be fallout from this, he knew. As he felt the tension drain from the beautiful man in his arms, though, Bull decided whatever fight came after was worth it.

"Thank you," Dorian whispered against his lips. Bull hummed an affirmative noise and kissed him until both of them were breathless.

 

Dorian hadn't realized he'd nodded off until a knock at the door startled him to wakefulness. Body giving one hard jerk he half-rose from a very warm, lumpy bed; a different kind of heat rose in him when he realized that his cushion was, in fact, a very large Qunari. Dorian was on his stomach, belly to belly with his rescuer; he pushed himself up, eyes bleary with sleep and surprise. The Bull smiled so gently back at him that Dorian’s breath got turned around and was lost, seemingly trapped in his chest forever. 

The person at the door knocked again, insistant. Dorian sighed, rising from the bed and taking a moment to fluff his hair, shoulders rolling kinks loose as he crossed the room. With each step he reformed his persona until the haughty magister was back.

He gave one last quick sigh to center himself and pulled the door open a crack.

"I apologize for disturbing you," Josephine said the instant the door was open. Her cheeks were flushed and she was not quite making eye contact. "May I come in?" Dorian glanced over his shoulder at Bull, who shrugged. Dorian's brain spun into a whirlwind of panic for a moment, at what she would think when she saw Bull in his room, in his bed, and then dismissed the concern just as quickly when he realized she probably already thought much worse of him anyway. He stepped back and gestured her inside. To his surprise, she did not seem at all shocked to see the Iron Bull with him. Josephine turned to close the door behind her, hands seeming incomplete without her clipboard. She clasped them before her instead, gaze travelling from Dorian to Bull and back again. After an uncomfortable few moments Dorian cleared his throat.

"Is there something I--"

"A moment, if you please." Josie reached out a hand, mouth drawn taut. She simply waited until Dorian realized what she wanted and placed his hand in hers. His spine stiffened as her fingers instantly went to the marks left behind by the day's events. Her fingertips gently traced the red marks the cuffs had left behind and the dark purple bruises from Adaar's grip, both twined about his forearms. She made an unhappy sound in the back of her throat, covering the angry red marks with one warm palm. "I had hoped that Ambassador Larendaeu had been exaggerating in his details. Sadly it does not appear so." She looked up into Dorian's eyes. "I am so sorry." 

Dorian didn't move, didn't even breathe, not fully ready to have this conversation a third time in the same day, least of all with Josephine. He heard his bed groan in protest as the Bull shifted his weight, feeling the comfort of a heavy hand settle on his shoulder as Bull came to stand behind him. He was no longer alone. Beneficial, considering his throat had gone too tight for words.

"The Ambassador came to you?" the Bull asked. Josephine nodded.

"I ran into him in the hallway a short time ago. He was quite panicked by what transpired." She gave a little shudder. "Once I got him to my office to explain he revealed that he believed the entire situation to be a setup, a ruse by the Inquisition to blackmail him with..." she did not finish. She was still holding onto Dorian's hand and squeezed it instead. "Well. You are aware. I assured him that the situation was a grave misunderstanding and that the Inquisition would never do such a thing. Once he had calmed down, he expressed concern over your well-being, Dorian, given what he learned during the Iron Bull's intervention." There was a load of unspoken meaning within that sentence and it sat between the three of them for a long moment.

"I..." Dorian's mouth had gone dry, his voice slightly raspy; clearing his throat, he raised his chin. "I have no desire to make more of a discussion about this than it has already become. The ambassador was an unknowing party and was deliberately misled by the Inquisitor. I have spoken with Adaar on the subject, and we have... agreed to call off our liaison. So long as he does not trouble me further, I am content to leave the rest be. The Inquisition and its work are infinitely more important than this nonsense." Josephine nodded in approval, squeezing his hand a final time before bowing herself out.

"I agree wholeheartedly and will see to it that you get your wish for peace, Lord Dorian," she agreed cryptically, and was gone. Not knowing what to do with that Dorian stayed where he was, grey eyes fastened on the closed door. A second hand found his shoulder and Dorian found he no longer wished to think about it.

"You alright?" The Bull asked quietly. Dorian turned around and sunk into the larger man's embrace.

"No, not really. But hopefully I will be."  
_________________________

 

A runner summoned the Inquisitor the following morning. Adaar entered the war room grumbling at the early hour and was rather surprised to find only Josephine standing alone near one of the large plate glass windows.

"Where are the others?" he asked, in no mood for delays or games, his tone sharp. Josephine beckoned Adaar inward; as he crossed the threshold he jumped a little as the door slid closed behind him. He had not noticed Leliana standing against the wall near the entrance, tucked into the shadows of a hanging drapery. Odd.

"Good morning Inquisitor," Josephine said in her normal sweet cadence. Adaar's eyes narrowed slightly but he nodded, a little uneasy when Leliana deigned to remain against the door.

"What's this about?"

"I wished to review with you the terms of the supply agreement, Inquisitor," Josephine replied. She had a handful of parchment paper already extended. He took it from her, briefing over the summary at the top. "It does seem as though our efforts have paid off--the conglomerate wishes an alliance. No small amount of work, to be sure, but it was worth it." A smile began to spread across Adaar's face.

"This is extremely advantageous," Adaar agreed. "This should work out very well for the Inquisition. We'll extend our reach and have much better access to rare resources." If either of the women expected him to be surprised at the outcome they did not show it. "Are there any clauses that we dislike? Anything I need to go back and renegotiate with the ambassador perhaps?"

"Interesting you should mention that," Leliana proffered from behind him. Adaar glanced over her shoulder at her. "We heard a most interesting tale about some… shall we say, less than savory activities you may have engaged in during the course of the discussions." Adaar's eyes thinned to slits again, the corners of his mouth turning down in a scowl.

"That whore...so much for any kind of discretion. I knew he was not trustworthy." The Inquisitor snarled, not bothering to confirm what they'd meant. He did not look cowed nor embarrassed at being found out. He simply looked angry. "The Game was played, ladies, regardless of what that filthy 'Vint may have told you--"

"On the contrary Inquisitor," Leliana corrected. Her voice was smooth as silk and cold as ice, betraying not one iota of emotion. "Dorian did not come to us with a tale."

"The ambassador did," Josephine finished for her. She looked resolute, pretty face kept carefully blank, though her knuckles were pale as she gripped her clipboard. "He was most distraught. He thought the entire situation an elaborate plot to blackmail him. It cast considerable aspersion on the Inquisition for him to believe as such. It would do considerable damage to our reputation if he spreads the story." She drew in a deep breath. "It will prove extraordinarily detrimental for any future contracts with the conglomerate, or with anyone else, were news of this to get out."

"The man willingly participated," Adaar growled, though he did not manage to loom. He was much taller than either of the women but their calm solidarity made the height difference seem less pressing. Leliana's gaze was just as sharp as the daggers he knew she carried but he did not back down, did not flinch. Still, both women could see the tension beginning to mount in his posture. 

"I do not need details as to why this arrangement came to be the way it did, Inquisitor, but you should know the ambassador made no claim otherwise: he was more concerned at the lack of willingness of other participants." Adaar started to open his mouth to answer but Josephine cut him off and continued, speech hurried but still formal. "What has become critical is that it not happen again. You'll understand that personal matters do indeed reflect back on the Inquisition at large, of course. Any disagreements, any lovers' quarrel made public makes people cast a negative light on the Inquisition. It will weaken us and weaken our ability to get allies. Certainly, given this, you understand why we agree that your liaison with Dorian is not allowed to continue."

"I'm certain this will not be an issue," Leliana nodded, the embodiment of calm nonchalance. "Dorian has agreed to leave the matter lie and continue working towards our cumulative goals. The ambassador also. Everyone involved would rather situation be put to bed. Do we have your support in this, Inquisitor?"

It took a long time for Adaar to answer, muscle groups flexing in coordination as he clenched and unclenched his fists, irritation drawing his massive shoulders tight. He was furious but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

"I see no issue with that. The mage can stay buried in his books for all I care."

"Very good Inquisitor," Josephine said, scribbling a note on her papers." That should be all for now, I will take care of sealing the rest of the documents for the trade agreement with your leave." Adaar nodded and turned to go. 

He did not startle but it was a near thing; he found Leliana at his ear as he made his about-face, the spymaster silently closing the distance between them without a sound

"Do see to it that you uphold your end of the bargain," she whispered, voice as soft as a dove's wingbeat. "Should you violate the terms to leave Lord Dorian alone, we will have to take appropriate measures. The Inquisition cannot risk the fallout, after all."

"As you wish," Adaar snarled, and his voice was strangled as he fled the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt? leave me a comment, or point me towards the DAKM/Tumblr post :) I have a penchant for H/C with a dose of evil, as if you've read this far and didn't know that.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!! Please let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and critique always welcome!! Thanks for reading.  
> \-------


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